Shades of Black
by Helaine85
Summary: The jinzouningen don't remember their past. But what if Juunanagou's memories began to return?
1. Memories

AN: This chapter is pretty safe, but the following ones deal with an abusive father, fighting, and have their fair share of cussing in them. So tread carefully.  
  
Disclaimer: Dragonball Z and it's characters do not belong to me. 'Nuff said.   
  
  
  
Shades of Black  
  
  
  
Juuhachi once asked me if I wanted to remember.  
  
   
  
Sometimes I think that things would've been better if Gero had completely erased my memory. Only he hadn't. At first I was like Juuhachi, I didn't care about the past, it didn't matter anymore. There was a vague curiousity in the back of my mind, something that I ignored most of the time. But at night the questions would return.  
  
   
  
How did two teenagers become powerful, souless machines like what we have become? And why us? Who were we that we were chosen for this nightmare?  
  
   
  
Then nightmares themselves slowly began to answer my questions, to feed the growing hunger. Who would've thought that androids, jinzouningen, could dream? But we can.  
  
   
  
They were really more like flashbacks, I guess. After all, the nightmares were simply fragmented memories. It took me awhile, but eventually I figured out what was happening. At first I thought that there was a malfunction, and somehow some of the memories Gero had erased were coming back.  
  
   
  
That made sense to me, except that there was a problem. My systems showed no errors, and every nighmare came back so real, so vivid, it was as if someone was replaying pieces of a movie, one bit at a time. And, they didn't come back in chronological order. No, they had an order all their own.  
  
   
  
Sometimes I would be an adolescent, others a child. Each revelation brought me closer to seeing the whole story. Then finally, the dreams stopped.  
  
   
  
They had revealed everything; my childhood, my parents, friends (the few that I had, anyway), all the details of the painful truth. But there was one thing the horrific nightmares had yet to explain.  
  
   
  
And it was that question that haunted me the most. You see, that was how I realized what was really happening to me. Gero had planned this.  
  
   
  
The pattern at which the dreams came was not random. There was a sequence. Why he did it, give me back my memories, I still do not know. Maybe I never will. But that is irrelevent.  
  
   
  
The only question that did matter was what happened to make two teenage delinquints into ruthless, cold-blooded murderers, with strength that surpassed a Super Saiyann. 


	2. Thinking of You

AN: This chapter probably contains the most cussing out of all of them so far. That and some unpleasant memories of the twins' father. So if ya don't like that sort of thing, don't read. I tried not to go overboard, so I don't think it's really anything to worry about. They're delinquents, remember?  
  
Disclaimer: Dragonball Z and it's characters don't belong to me. I just find pleasure in putting them through hell and back… ^__-  
  
  
  
Shades of Black  
  
I shivered, attempting to warm my bare arms with my hands. The night air was damp and frozen as we stood in the white landscape. The trees cast blue shadows on the snow, the only light coming from the moon above us. I eyed the crumpled form on the ground with disgust.  
  
   
  
"Damn bastard trashed my coat," I complained, picking up the shredded garment and attempting to wipe off some of the snow and blood. Glaring in frustration, I threw it on the ground. "Ah, screw it."  
  
   
  
"Hn. What a waste of time," my sister sneered, kicking her victim in the ribs. "He didn't have any money on him."  
  
   
  
I turned and smirked at my blonde, female counterpart. "Well, at least we got to have the fun of beating the shit out of them."  
  
   
  
She rolled her eyes. "You are such an idiot."  
  
   
  
I ignored her insult, immune to her icy words. "So what now? There wasn't a single thing on them worth more than a buck. And now I don't have a coat either. This sucks."  
  
   
  
"Dammit," she swore. "It's been two days since the last time I ate something. I'm tired of wandering around the middle of nowhere, wasting my time beating up travelers, and freezing my ass off in the snow."  
  
   
  
"Fine. Let's go back," I grumbled. Her eyes widened.  
  
  
  
"You can't be serious."  
  
   
  
"I'm perfectly serious. I'm not going to let that jerk keep us out of our own house. I'm going back."  
  
   
  
"No!" She looked at me with pleading eyes, clearly revealing the fear in them that I knew a little too well. It was hidden behind my blue eyes too, but I refused to let her know I was scared.  
  
   
  
"Please," she begged, now on the verge of tears. It hurt me to see her like this, but I had already made up my mind. "You'll get killed if you go back now."  
  
   
  
"Look, I won't let him catch me. I'm just going to sneak in, get some food and get out of there," I promised.  
  
   
  
"Fine," she mumbled, clearly angry with my decsion.  
  
   
  
"We can't keep living like this," I blurted. "The two of us together have got to be stronger than he is. We gotta get some money, buy an apartment or something, and get Mom out of there."  
  
   
  
"We can't do this," she protested. "What if he found us? This is crazy. I'm not that eager to watch Mom die!"  
  
   
  
"Oh, but you'd rather sit by and watch him beat and rape her?" I countered. She turned away from me, trying to hide her tears. "I'm not going to hide from him anymore. As soon as we get some money, we're getting her out."  
  
   
  
Determined, I began to head in the direction of the suburbs. My twin ran up to me, grabbing me by the wrist.  
  
   
  
"I'm not going to let you go and get yourself killed!" she shouted.  
  
   
  
I yanked my arm out of her grip, not without some difficulty, and glared. "I don't care! You can't stop me, and I am going back, and I am not going to hide from him anymore. You can hide under the bed crying while he beats Mom, but I'm not letting that happen again!"  
  
   
  
Her eyes widened, and she backed away, her face contorted with pain. Then, before I could react, she jumped forward and slammed her fist into my jaw. Caught off guard, I flew backwards, landing hard in the snow.  
  
   
  
She stood alone trembling, body shaking with sobs. I moved a hand in shock to wipe the blood from my mouth. I continued to stare at her in awe, the wet snow soaking through my thin clothes.  
  
   
  
She glared at me. "How dare you?"  
  
  
  
I cursed myself silently, wondering what could've driven me to hurt her like that. My sister was not a coward, and her strength and pride meant more to her than her own life. But when we were younger, there had been one time when our mother had stood up for us. It was right after she had remarried, about a year after our father was killed. As usual, the bastard was drunk again, and anything could set off his violent temper. And once again, it had been me.  
  
   
  
He had told me to shut up and go to my room, so I had. But being the stupid brat that I was, I immediately slammed the door and turned my stereo on as loud as I dared. He had only hit me twice before, and each time my mother was too scared to stop him. I hadn't really been expecting him to beat me; I guess I just wanted to see how far he'd go.  
  
   
  
I heard the heavy, irregular footsteps thumping up the stairs and down the hall towards my room, and my blood ran cold. But I swallowed back the lump of fear in my throat, believing that I was tough enough to take a hit. But I was only nine.  
  
   
  
He stormed into my room, screaming at me. Picking up the stereo he smashed it against the wall. I was furious, and lunged at him, getting a hit in. I guess I got him pretty good, because his nose started bleeding. A million curses flowed out of his mouth, and he slammed his fist into my face. I landed hard against the bed, blood starting to seep from a gash in my forehead. My sister had been in the room with me since we shared the bedroom, and she ran forward, not caring that he was still there screaming at her.  
  
   
  
She tried to get me away, but he shoved her aside like a rag doll. I think she broke her wrist from landing wrong. My mom showed up then. She hadn't known that he was abusive, at least not to this extent. And she had known nothing about it before they were married. But I always knew, even before, I could just tell, and I had always hated him. My sister felt the same way.  
  
   
  
They argued for awhile, I can't remember what they said because I was already half out of it by this time, and quickly losing consciousness. My twin was scared, but even though she was hurt she dragged me under the bed away from him. I was still just barely awake, and struggling as hard as I could to get out of there and help mom; he had started beating her by then.  
  
   
  
I won't go into anymore details about happened after that, but that was the first time I ever saw my sister truly scared, saw my mother bruised and beaten, the first time I had ever learned what it truly was to be helpless. I guess because I was a boy I always felt that it was my job to get rid of him one day. But about a year ago, he had finally kicked me out of the house. I suppose because I kept getting in trouble with the cops, and the cops were the last thing he wanted hanging around his house.  
  
   
  
My twin came with me, and for the first couple of weeks we just wandered around on the streets, eating whatever we could find. There was one occasion when a stranger had brought us in, but other than that we were shown no hospitality. So after awhile, we left to go up to the mountains, and we basically robbed travelers that came by. Things were okay until winter came. There were less travelers, and the only people going by were the ones to poor to afford a warmer means of transportation, so they were worthless.  
  
   
  
So here we were, wandering around in the middle of nowhere in the night in the snow, without any warmth or shelter. We usually stayed in a cave nearby, but it was damp now, and it didn't help a lot since we couldn't get a fire going. My sister stood in front of me, tears still streaming down her cheeks. She reached up to wipe them away roughly, her hand pale and shaking with cold and anger.  
  
   
  
"I'm sorry," I whispered. She seemed to notice that I meant what I said, but that still didn't take away her anger. She was not one to forgive easily.  
  
   
  
I stood up, brushing myself off, now wet and even colder than before. "I'm sorry," I repeated again. "But I'm going back. Come if you want."  
  
   
  
Leaving her behind me, I turned and walked away, back down the frozen trail. The lights of the city could be seen just over the ridge of the next hill, and it wouldn't take me very long to reach the suburbs. I heard the crunching of snow and turned to see her walk up behind me.  
  
   
  
"All right. If you go, then I go too," she said. "I haven't left you when you needed me before, and I'm not going to start now. But you sure as hell had better not get yourself killed, got it?"  
  
"Hai," I agreed, and we began heading down the hill into the suburbs.  
  
  


	3. Family Reunion

AN: This one's violent. The twins return to their old home, and let's just say that Juunana finally does a little "visiting".  
  
Disclaimer: Dragonball Z and it's characters don't belong to me.  
  
Shades of Black  
  
   
  
I glanced around at the houses around us, each of them decorated with dimming Christmas lights, some missing bulbs. It reminded me of just how poor this neighborhood was. I guess after living away from it for a year I must've forgotten. I glanced at a reflection of myself in the dark window of a parked car. My face was nearly identical with my sisters, but my black hair and eyebrows distinguished me from her, as well as more masculine features. My hair had grown out to my shoulders and was beginning to grow longer. I'd have to cut it soon.  
  
   
  
We walked a couple of blocks before I really looked into one of the houses and noticed the Christmas tree, three children sitting beneath it and opening presents. On one table were a plate with cookies and a glass of milk. The parents stood in the doorway with loving, peaceful looks on their faces. I had to search my memory for any expression from either my stepfather or my real father that came even remotely close to that. Not even my mother had ever looked so happy.  
  
   
  
"Tonight must be Christmas Eve," my twin commented. I glanced over at her, realizing that her arms were bare like mine and she was shaking just as hard as I was but desperately trying to hide it.  
  
   
  
"Yeah. We should be there soon," I said, swallowing back my fear. It had been a long time since I had last walked down this street. "Maybe we can steal a couple coats or something."  
  
   
  
She looked like she was going to glare at me again for noticing that she was cold, but then her features softened. I guess she remembered that it was the holidays, or maybe she just figured that she should be nice to me since I was probably going to get myself killed tonight.  
  
   
  
I stopped, seeing the house in front of me. It was a small one story home like most of the others in the neighborhood. Only this one didn't have Christmas lights or a happy family in the window. The grass had grown tall and was overgrown with weeds, and an old trash can sat at the top of the driveway, leaning against the house.  
  
   
  
"Home sweet home," I muttered bitterly. My sister seemed just as hesitant as I was to return to the place, but I reminded myself that I had no choice. We had to get food and coats. And I was after something else tonight too.  
  
   
  
I think my sister must've realized that I wasn't planning on just getting food out of there. She knew me a little too well for that. No, I planned to get Mom too. I was tired of waiting, tired of saying someday, tired of hoping and making empty promises. Even if I was killed tonight, I had to get her out.  
  
   
  
But that didn't mean that I was going to be careless. After living as a thief for the past year, I had picked up some fighting skills. No dumbass drunk was going to be able to beat me, especially not him. I still remembered how he fought, and I knew his mistakes. He didn't stand a chance.  
  
   
  
So you could say that this wasn't just a trip to get Mom out of there and away from him. I planned on getting revenge too.  
  
   
  
My sister turned to me, placing a hand on my arm. I shivered at her cold touch, but didn't pull away. "Listen, I know why you're coming here. You don't have to lie to me. But please be careful. You're all I've got left."  
  
   
  
"No," I disagreed. "We've still got Mom."  
  
  
  
She looked down and instinctively I realized that she was hiding something from me. She had been hiding it for a long time, but I'd been too angry to notice. "What is it?"  
  
  
  
She bit her lip. "Mom was dying."  
  
   
  
"Nani?!"  
  
   
  
"Last year, before we left I found out about it. She had cancer," she said, tears brimming her eyes again. She blinked them away and continued in a steady, if not cold voice. "She didn't have any money, and because he's a drug dealer, he wouldn't let her go to the hospital. Doesn't want to get involved with officials. Besides, they didn't have the money for all that. I doubt if they even had enough money just for her to go into the doctor's and find out she had cancer."  
  
   
  
"Why the hell didn't you ever tell me this?" I growled, anger consuming me.  
  
   
  
"Because… because I was trying to forget it myself," she answered. "And besides, you were always saying that one of these days you'd go back and we'd rescue her, and I just couldn't tell you. I couldn't take away your hope."  
  
   
  
I felt my hands clench into fists, and I had to look away to keep my seething anger in check. "How long did she have?"  
  
"Six months," she answered, her voice wavering slightly.  
  
   
  
"Goddammit, how could you let me just keep on believing this?" I yelled, forgetting that the neighborhood was quiet, that it was Christmas Eve, that we were only meters away from the house where our stepfather now lived, no doubt alone.  
  
   
  
"If I had told you before you wouldn't have listened," she spat. "You would've raced down here, tried to get her out and into a hospital, and have gotten yourself beaten to death in the process. I still remember what he said the night we left. Do you?"  
  
  
  
"If you ever show your ****ing faces here again, I'll kill you, and the damned woman too," I quoted, my voice shaking with fury.  
  
   
  
We stood in silence for a moment, until the sound of a trash can crashing onto the street caught my attention. We looked up, and I felt my heart stop as I saw the silhouette of a large, drunken man swaggering through the street toward us. There were two more drunks with him, and as they stepped into the light of the street lamps above us, I could see who I already knew it was. Jack, my stepfather.  
  
   
  
He drew closer, his face suddenly distorted with the rage. He squinted, as if trying to recognize who we were, but already realizing even before his eyes could tell him. I moved into a fighting stance, fury raging within me. I glared at the man, my mind suddenly unaware of anything else around me except for his swaggering form against the dim light from above him.  
  
   
  
My sister placed her hand on my shoulder, trying to calm me so that my anger didn't interfere with my fighting. It wouldn't; no, I waited a long time for the chance to stand up against him, and now I knew I could win. I was strong now, I wasn't some weak child that he could beat on whenever he felt like it.  
  
   
  
"You… I thought I told you to never come back here..." he slurred staring at us as if he were unsure whether or not we were really there. I balled my hands into fists, clenching my teeth.  
  
   
  
"Yeah, well we've come back to pay you a little visit," I growled, smirking maliciously. I saw my sister's eyes go wide as she caught the violent glint in my eyes. I was shocked at myself for the bloodthirstiness that had taken over me, but that shock was far away, a tiny little voice locked in the back of my head. I knew only one thing; he would pay tonight, with his own blood.  
  
   
  
"Don't do anything crazy," she warned. I glared hard at her.  
  
   
  
"Stay out of this," I snapped. I turned back to where my stepfather seemed frozen staring at us in anger, now tinted with a hint of fear. I smiled at him, and layed my hands out palms up, slowly approaching him. "What's the matter, Dad? Aren't you happy to see us? I've been waiting a long time to see you again."  
  
   
  
I stepped closer, only a few feet away from him. I could smell the liquour on his heavy breaths. He was shaking, now from fear, his hate slowly dissolving as he backed away from me, stumbling.  
  
   
  
The smirk disappeared from my face, and I lunged forward, slamming my fist full force into his stomach. He wheezed falling backwards. One of his friends, jumped towards me, and I watched frozen as he rushed towards me too fast to stop. But my sister jumped in, slamming him back to the street with her elbow. He landed with a sickening thud and didn't move.  
  
   
  
While I was distracted, Jack took his chance and fingering a broken beer bottle, swung it for my face. I ducked, but just barely in time, and the sharpened glass slit my cheek, starting at my temple and running all the way down to my chin. I gaped at the gush of blood as it poured from my face and onto the dark streets. I reached a hand to touch the flap of skin, barely hanging off my face. I felt lightheaded, everything swirling around me. My sister screaming, running forward, Jack's fists connecting with her body, knocking her back down.  
  
   
  
My breath was knocked out of me as a huge fist caught my stomach, bowling me over. I landed hard on the street, my shoulder hitting the curb painfully. I watched everything through half lidded eyes, seeing my sister jump back up from where she had fallen, and with a sort of savage rage attack him. He hit her hard, and she fell back again. Only this time she didn't get up.  
  
   
  
Fear and adrenaline rushed through me, and I don't know how but I struggled up to my feet, staggering to remain standing. With strength I didn't know I had, I attacked him in a flurry of punches and kicks, my body moving before my brain had a chance to think. Caught off guard, every punch hit its mark, and he was beaten down to the ground, and somewhere in the distant part of my mind I knew that if I continued, he would die.  
  
   
  
My sister groaned, bringing a slender hand up to gently touch her bruised face. Renewed anger took a hold of me, and I continued attacking him with a whole new strength. Suddenly the cry of sirens broke the quiet neighborhood. I didn't care, didn't hear them, my hands and feet never stopping their fight against everything, against him, my past, my sister, my mother, my life, myself.  
  
   
  
I could vaguely feel my sister pulling on my arm, pleading with me through her tears to get me to leave, to run before it was to late. But her urgency was lost on me, I couldn't even see through the blood that drenched my face, sticking to my clothes making me look like something from a horror movie. But I didn't stop.  
  
   
  
"STOP IT!" her scream suddenly tore through me, and I blinked, turning my gaze away from him to land on her. Tears streaked her face, and she was shaking with pain and fear for us both. She looked down on him. "He's dead."  
  
   
  
I stopped breathing, breath caught in my throat as I glanced down at him, realizing what I had done. I had never killed anyone before, never known what it was like to realize that he had been living just minutes before and now he was gone, all because of me, because of my hatred. I'd just become what he had always been, a killer, filled with anger and hate and no room in my icy heart for love, not even enough love for my sister to leave. Now we would both be caught, and I'd have made our already twisted lives even worse.  
  
   
  
"Come on, dammit! We have to get out of here!" she yelled shattering my thoughts. I frowned, the sirens were getting closer. She yanked on my arm again, sending a jolt of pain through my body. I winced, and she pulled again, knowing full well that she was hurting me. She broke out running down the street, and I tore after her with one last look at the broken body splayed out on the wet street, blood staining the snow.  
  
  


	4. Pain of Victory

AN: No warnings this time *gasp* Just Juunana thinking about what he's done.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z or it's characters.  
  
  
  
Shades of Black  
  
  
  
We ran for a long time, barely managing to make our escape from the cops. They would be searching for us now, and it wouldn't take them long to find us. They had their evidence, fingerprints, all they needed was us. I didn't know where to go, what to do; I just followed my sister as she lead me back to the mountain pass where we had lived for the past year.  
  
   
  
I slowed down, my body now feeling the full effects of all the blood I had lost. I collapsed to my knees in the snow, the bitter cold biting in to my skin, soaking my already blood-stained clothes. I shivered, hugging my body with my bare arms. My sister tried to get me to stand, and I tried to rise, only to fall back down to the snowy ground in a heap.  
  
   
  
She cried, and fell down beside me, pulling me into her arms. I could barely feel the warmth of her body, my mind slowly fading. Darkness was swarming my vision, and I could barely see through the blood as it was. I leaned against her, and I think I might've been crying too, but I wasn't sure. I couldn't feel my face anymore, now frozen with loss of blood and the cold of the night and snow.  
  
   
  
She hugged me, rocking back and forth, and I felt like a child again. The darkness filled my vision, and the world around me began to swirl, as my mind faded into a place where life… and pain… disappear.  
  
   
  
   
  
++++++++++++  
  
   
  
   
  
The next time I awoke, I felt cold, and I could hear the sound of snow crunching under my sister's feet, hear it sliding under me as I was dragged on a litter behind her. She had made a sled out of tree branches, and was pulling me on it behind her. I could see tree branches moving overhead, and see the sky, painted with the faint colors of dawn as the sun began to rise on the horizon.  
  
   
  
The forest was hushed, quiet with the exception of our movement through the snow. The earth itself was covered in a fresh blanket of snow, pure white and untouched. I shivered, freezing. I had lost all feeling in my face, hands and feet, and by now I was certain that I had hypothermia. Nothing I could do about that though. I'd probably end up dying out here anyway. But that thought was almost welcome compared to the pain that I was feeling.  
  
   
  
My body ached, covered in ugly bruises. I think I'd damaged my hands from punching him last night. I shuddered. I didn't want to think about him, about what I had done. I stiffly raised a hand, and stared at it, transfixed with the crimson stain. I knew the blood was not all my own.  
  
   
  
I dropped my hand, disgusted with myself. I had become no better than him. He had accomplished something, he had not only built fear and hate with in my corrupt soul, but now he had finally won the fight. With his own death he had won. Because now I was just like him. He got what he wanted. He had created another abusive father, another hatefilled victim in the world. And I had let him. 


End file.
